


A Thief in the Night

by Myth_is_a_Mirror



Series: A Summer of Firsts [2]
Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Inexperience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myth_is_a_Mirror/pseuds/Myth_is_a_Mirror
Summary: During harvesting season, the year before moving to Olympus, three very different gods arrive in Persephone's village. She takes initiative to understand the curious new desires they spark within her, turning the summer into one of many firsts.Part 2: Ares rambles into town and, as usual, causes plenty of trouble.*Each part of series can be read standalone*
Relationships: Ares/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Series: A Summer of Firsts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555558
Comments: 10
Kudos: 114





	A Thief in the Night

The sunflowers bloomed taller than Persephone’s head when the god of war darkened their door. Or rather, their fields.

She and the nymphs had cut half the crop's stems into bundles the week before and had the easy work of harvesting the ripened seeds. They sat in a circle, singing together as they briskly rubbed the flower heads with their palms, blowing off the chaff, and placing the separated seeds in a flat basket to dry.

Persephone had made an extra large pan of baklava as an afternoon treat for the group. It cooled in the shade nearby, so the chaff wouldn’t spoil the treat. Her mouth watered in anticipation of the sunflower seed baklava with honey yogurt and apricot. _No reward without the work_ , her mother would have said.

Well, a little look-see wouldn’t hurt. Imagining the crispy brown dessert, Persephone glanced over and found...nothing.

“The baklava!” She gasped and stood, petals and stems gusting out from her skirts. The nymphs tittered with worry, and a rising anger grew in Persephone’s chest.

A flash of orange and black streaked through the dark forest.

“Thief!” Persephone cried and ran full tilt in their direction. No one messed with her dessert.

She gained on them, feet pounding at speeds she'd never reached before. As she drew closer, her heart beat fast with exertion and something else. Fear. 

The thief was big, more beast than man.

At the edge of a cliff, they stopped and turned around. Half again taller than her even without the plumed metal helm and probably three times her bulk, the man wore the dark armor of a warrior. His flowing golden cape whipped in the wind. In one hand he carried a spear even taller than him that glinted in the sun. In his other, he held her baklava.

Persephone narrowed her eyes, her neck growing warm as her hair lengthened and she stomped her foot. “That’s mine.”

“I can assure you, the spear is mine.”

“The food!” She stomped again. The itch of red thorny vines crawled along her back and arms, irritating her further.

“Oh! This?” He shook the pan of food too near the cliff’s edge for her liking. And the way he smiled, she knew he _knew_ it was hers.

“Give. It. Back.” She crossed her arms. When her voice came out deep and multi-layered, she frightened herself as much as she seemed to startle him. His smile fell to a look of curious astonishment. He dropped to one knee and held the baklava up to her like an offering.

“Ares, the god of war, at your service ma’am.”

~

“He’ll only be here for one night,” her mother whispered before they sat down for dinner, as though the hulking golden skinned warrior was a nuisance. Persephone found him positively lovely. Well, after he’d returned the baklava. No more hijinks from him. He was all pleasantry and smiles. With her, anyway.

With Demeter, he made arguing seem like the most fun he’d ever had. First, he argued that her storage methods were inefficient. That had really riled her up. His newest topic was proposing that Persephone be introduced to Olympus society. _Absurd_. Who would ensure spring came? Who would keep the nymphs laughing and happy while they worked?

“Never! My daughter will not live with Aphrodite. Are you mad? Go to college, alone, in Olympus? You must be brainsick.”

“No one is ever alone in Aphrodite’s house.” Ares leaned forward, eyes glowing red as he studied Demeter, smiling wider every time she raised her voice or slammed a fist on the table. “And anyway, how old is she?”

Demeter’s lips and eyes flattened to thin lines. Persephone knew that look. The conversation was over.

“Eighteen!” Persephone piped in, then hunched her shoulders when both heads swiveled her direction.

“Perfect.” Ares voice was as smooth as a long sip of sweet wine. But something about his predatory gaze, which fell to her lips, then her chest, made her feel like he wasn’t thinking about advocating for her education anymore. 

The crown of her head grew heavier. She reached up and pulled down a blue forget-me-not. _Strange._

Seeing the flower in Persephone’s hand, Demeter’s annoyance turned to fear. “Bedtime, darling. Go wash up.”

Persephone padded to her room in a daze, thinking only of Ares’ face in that last moment. A curling smile. A gaze roaming over her skin with something akin to hunger. Persephone had seen that same look, months ago with Hermes in the forest. But Ares was a different kind of god. Bigger. Older. Riskier. Was she brave enough to dance with such danger?

The two of them weren’t best friends like she and Hermes. They were veritable strangers. 

Growing up surrounded by her loving mother and flower nymphs had been lovely. They shared affection freely, hugging and helping each other in the day’s work. But the touch of a man? She had never experienced that until recently, never realized it would be so different. Her stolen moments with Hermes had only whetted her appetite.

In eighteen years, she’d only met a handful of gods. She needed to take life into her own hands. Persephone wanted to explore these bubbling feelings. She needed to learn more about pleasure at another’s hands.

And though Ares had stolen her balklava and argued with her mother, he’d also suggested she go to school in Olympus. _What a thought!_

Instead of tucking under the covers after her mother's goodnight kiss, she acted on instinct. Pulling on her short, sheer nightgown, she tiptoed down the hall. After a light knock, she heard a grunt in reply and slowly opened the door.

Ares looked up from a washing bowl, water running down his face in rivulets. His expression of surprise quickly morphed to a small smile tucked up high on one side. His eyes looked like a cat on the hunt. 

Her mind screamed _danger!_ but her heart said _keep walking._ Persephone always followed her heart.

“Bringing me dessert?”

She coughed and shut the door softly behind her, panting. Was she the prey or the predator?

“When we met, you said you were at my service. What did you mean?”

Ares wiped his face off, letting the rag linger down his chest to the waistband of the pants hanging low on his hips. He walked to the large pallet guest bed and sat on the floor. One arm leaned against the bed and he rested his head on that hand, and watched her in silence for a long moment.

“Your eyes were blood red when I said that,” he began. “The air crackled like fire and deadly looking vines floated around you like a crown of wrath. Would you believe me if I said I was afraid?”

“Of me?” She stepped forward, worried she had scared him, that she could scare anyone. “I’m just a village girl.”

“You’re a goddess, Persephone.” He raised an eyebrow. “And perhaps I _can_ be of service. What did you have in mind? An enemy you need killed? Some revenge?”

“A kiss.”

He reared back in surprise.

“Hermes taught me to kiss earlier this summer, and I guess…” She trailed off, foot shaking. This was more awkward than she’d thought it would be.

“You need a little more practice?”

She nodded. “F-for science.”

“I see.” He sat taller on his knees and waved her forward. And she came, one small step at a time, skin growing hot and tight with each step. “Let me understand what I’m working with. For science, of course.”

She licked her lips and nodded again. One strong, scarred hand lifted to cup her jaw, dragging a thumb over her bottom lip. “He kissed you here?”

She nodded.

“And here?” Ares skated both hands, inches away from her shift until his palms hovered near her heavy breasts. He didn’t touch even touch her, yet her nipples hardened to tight points in response. 

She blinked and shook her head, though her mouth couldn’t speak the word. Hermes hadn't kissed her there.

“Hmmph.” The red skin around his eyes flushed deeper, warmth emanating from him in waves. One of his large palms made contact with her stomach as it slid down the gauzy fabric and stopped at the start of hot pink curls. Rotating, his fingers pressed into the soft skin of her tummy as his thumb swept back and forth across the top of her mound. She could barely breathe.

“Did he kiss you here?” he whispered as his thumb kept a steady tempo grazing back and forth. Back and forth. Somehow both too slow and too fast.

She gulped and shook her head. A whispered, “No,” barely audible. 

Her body responded in strange, new ways. She felt hot _there_ and cold everywhere else. Her breasts had never felt so heavy and tender. Was her heart beating faster or had she only now grown aware of the blood pumping through her body? Everything seemed to rush south to meet that one patch of skin he tickled so lightly over the see-through fabric. She shifted, rubbing her legs together to test the feeling. 

“You ache?”

Gods, his deep voice was so playful. Flushed red skin and crimson eyes looked up at her from under long dark lashes. She wanted to lay back and just let him talk to her. Touch her. Would he be disappointed in her inexperience? She was a goddess, technically, but not like the women in Olympus.

“You’re not making eye contact.” His hand dropped away and he sat back on his heels. She almost fell to her knees with the force of her nerves. “Don’t be embarrassed. Tell Ares what you need.”

 _He’ll only be here for a night_ , her mother had promised. What did she have to lose?

“I want to kiss again.” But the memory of that thumb ghosting over her sensitive skin gave her another idea. “I want your hands on me.”

He smiled and grasped her around the hips, fingers snaking down to grip her behind lightly, kneading the soft flesh. “First, tell me about the red vines. They grow when you’re angry?”

“My powers are...still developing.” Her hands fell to his shoulders. She reveled in the softness of his golden curls and the scars that seemed to cover his skin.

“If you have the power to bring forth life is stands to reason you can end it as well. Is that why some mortals call you _Bringer of Death_ now?”

 _He’d heard about that?_ "I don't let things get me angry. Easy solution."

"Sometimes you need to stick up for yourself." His gaze grew intense and serious, as though this was a lesson only he could give. "Anger is very often necessary. Warranted. Justified."

_No, no, no. I'm a good girl. I don't cause problems._

The way he challenged her made the vines grow again. They twisted around his arms.

“Okay. No more questions. Red means danger. A god can take a hint.” He chuckled. “At dinner though, you bloomed blue.”

She looped her hair quickly into a top knot. “I think it happens when I’m excited.”

“Aroused is more like it.” His hands fell to the bottom of her nightgown, fingers snaking under the fabric and slowly up. A handful of blue petals ghosted slowly to the floor. “You were excited as you sang and harvested with your friends. No flowers. But at dinner, when you saw me notice those kissable lips and your large, perfect tits, you bloomed. Blue. How interesting.”

“Forget me nots are usually given to someone when you want them to remember you. A gift as it were.” She always rambled when she was nervous. Before, she couldn’t get her voice to work. Now, she couldn’t get it to stop. “You see, they’re a small, shy flower, easily overlooked and-”

“You’re not easy to overlook.” His strong grip on her lower thigh guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. He kneeled before her. “I’d imagine you’re almost impossible to forget.”

More often than not, locals immediately assumed her to be a flower nymph. There was a comfort in the anonymity, and she loved her friends, but she had wanted to be special. To be cherished. To be seen.

“Hermes kissed your lips. Let me show you how a man kisses somewhere else.”

Her hands flew to her breasts.

He nodded on a smile, and slowly drew her legs open. “Here too.”

The cool air of the room hit the sensitive, heated skin of her core on a sudden draft, and she shuddered. Her eyes widened, mouth dropping open. 

“Lay back if you like, but I just wanna be sure. You want this?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately.

“Good, and don't feel bashful telling me what you like, what you feel, what you don’t want me to do. Got it?”

“I’ll try.” She took a deep breath and leaned back, hands braced on the bed behind her. 

His wide shoulders came closer, and her legs opened even wider. The hem of her flimsy gown rasped against her skin, up to mid-thigh. Leaning forward, eyes locked on hers, Ares brought his mouth to one nipple. He sucked it into his hot mouth, then flicked it with his tongue. The other breast was captive to his kneading palm. But the sheer fabric got in the way.

She used one hand to lift it up, high, and bit it between her teeth.

“Well aren’t you an ingenious little goddess?” He pulled away on a dangerous smile before diving back in, this time licking around the opposite areola before sucking the nipple deep into his mouth. On an inhale, the faint scent of cloves and soap washed over her. _Gods, that’s nice._

“F-f-f-fates!” She cried around the fabric in her mouth, head falling back on a groan. 

It was so much better skin to skin. His bulky chest hovering over her like a hot, hard wall of muscle. His golden curls brushed just under her chin as he worked her breasts. She squirmed, something lower clenching around nothing. Clever fingers twisted her other nipple.

“Ahhh!” The fabric fell from her mouth.

“Hurt too much?” He pulled back. While her heart beat like a drum in her ears and whole body felt overheating, her nipples, licked clean, were the only cold spot.

“I...like...it.” Each word came out on a pant. 

“Good. Leave the gown where it is. I need to hear you for the next part.” With a waggle of his eyebrows, he moved lower. Nose tracing down her stomach, he bit at her soft skin, causing a surprised giggle. His hands rolled over her body from her breasts to her back and down. 

“Gods, that’s an ass a god could get lost in.” His voice was almost awestruck as he knelt further down on the floor, mouth level with the very center of her, the place that called for sensation. Her body seemed built to yield to someone of his size and strength, happy to tremble and open to the pleasure he promised. 

“You’re going to kiss me now?”

“Something like that.” He licked up her seam, and the sensation was...not cold or hot at all. It was soft and so terribly wet. She felt his fingers moving her folds and then came an unexpected sensation. It had to be his tongue. Something long and warm snaked into her, moved with a mind of its own. In, deeper, it pressed up before dragging back out. Again and again, he set a debauched rhythm that had her gasping.

“Ah...ah...ah” Each sound came out on a fast breath. _Am I about to pass out?_ She’d overheated while working before, but she’d never felt a heat shimmer within her like this, through every vein in her arms and legs. It radiated out, built to some kind of crescendo she couldn’t hear yet, couldn’t even imagine.

And then he pulled back, one hand squeezing a breast while the other rubbed a large circle at the top of her mound.

“You’re good?” He watched her carefully. This was a man with experience. Instead of insecurity, a feeling of safety washed over her.

“Good…” She squirmed her hips. He wasn’t quite where she needed him, but his fingers were so close. “It feels good, but not….great.”

“You’re ready to feel great then?” His fingers on her core moved in a smaller circle. He was almost there. 

“Yes! Please!” Her hips rolled and legs trembled uncontrollably.

“Come for me, then.” He dove back down, licking into her and his thumb, it had to be his thumb, pressed hard in tiny, insistent circles at the perfect place. The spot where every tension in her body seemed to meet, clench tight, and then…break apart…melt away. Her limbs seized on a soundless cry. 

Legs and arms fell limp. Her core pulsed almost violently half a dozen times, and she fell on her back. So that was what it meant to….come.

“Fertility goddesses,” Ares chuckled softly, as if to himself.

“What about fertility goddesses?” Persephone perked up, rising back up on one arm and pulling her legs beside her on the bed. “Is it different with them...in these intimate moments?”

“Yea, it’s a little different.” His brows furrowed, and he hesitated for a second before answering. “My girl’s a fertility goddess. Aphrodite.”

“Oh gods. Oh no!” Persephone’s entire body went cold as she scrambled backwards, grabbing a pillow to cover herself. “What have I done? I’m a…a...cheater.”

“Pfft. Hardly.” Ares rose, pushed down the bulge in his pants, and walked to grab a glass of water. “Don’t get your tunic in a twist. She and I are a free love sort.”

“She won’t be jealous?”

“Jealousy is a disease of the mind. She and I don’t agree on a lot of things, but that’s one of them." He raked a hand through his hair and picked up his toothbrush. "Besides, only a fool would compare two goddesses. You are each perfect in your own way. Though, I mean, Aphrodite is definitely the most beautiful. It’s kind of her thing.”

“Well that’s very...healthy of you. I think?” Persephone dropped the pillow and stood up, hugging the bedpost.

“By the way...” Ares pointed his toothbrush at her, white foam around this mouth. “I’ve been meaning to ask since I saw you in your true wrathful form on the cliff - What do you think about breeding an army of mighty soldiers together? I’ve got an idea for a land full of lady warriors. You see-”

Persephone blinked several times, then narrowed her eyes. “Sorry…what?”

“You’re clearly powerful in a dark arts kinda way. And those child bearing hips-”

No romance. No connection. Speaking to her like...like she was cattle he could breed.

“OUT!” She yelled, hand pointed to the door. “GET OUT!”

His confused gaze roamed the room. “Ummm, this is the guest room isn’t it?”

With a growl, she marched to the door. Opening it, Persephone bumped into her mother. Their largest pitchfork was wrapped tight in her hands. 

_Sugarsnaps!_ _She came when I screamed._ “Mama! I...I came to bring him some...uh, dessert.”

Ares grabbed his scattered clothes and belongings and stuffed them in a sack, watching mother and daughter with a bemused expression. _Why was he grabbing his things? Oh right, I told him to get out._

“Where is it?” Demeter searched the room. “The dessert.”

 _Double sugarsnaps!_ Persephone looked to Ares with wide, desperate eyes.

He grinned and answered her mother, “I threw it out the window. It tasted like garbage.” 

“Disrespecting my daughter’s baklava?!” Demeter flew at him with the wooden end of the pitchfork, beating him over the ass as he picked up his spear and dashed for the window. 

“Seeya around, _Bringer of Death_.” He gave Persephone a quick salute before before taking flight.

**Author's Note:**

> This one ended up a little longer than I'd expected, but Ares is my weakness. Check out my other story, "Fight For What You Love" for my take on his relationship with Aphrodite's relationship.
> 
> If you like my stuff, subscribe here on AO3. I’m also on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/mythisamirror/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mythisamirror) if you want more updates and thirsty content. I’d love to hear from you any which way :)
> 
> Important disclaimer: The characters and world utilized in this are all property of Rachel Smythe. Any similarity between this fan fiction and Lore Olympus is due to common source material, in the form of Greek myths, or pure coincidence. This is a love letter to Rachel Smythe's body of work, and she retains all rights to the characters and world.


End file.
